Young men's love then lies not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.

Every man has a bag hanging before him, in which he puts his neighbour's faults, and another behind him in which he stows his own.

Thou art a soul in bliss; but I am bound Upon a wheel of fire; that mine own tears Do scald like molten lead.

A plague on both your houses.

Time's the king of men; he's both their parent, and he is their grave, and gives them what he will, not what they crave.

Experience is by industry achieved, And perfected by the swift course of time.

A nun of winter's sisterhood kisses not more religiously; the very ice of chastity is in them.